


Keepsake

by dornfelder



Series: Assorted Trash Fic [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Dark fic, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornfelder/pseuds/dornfelder
Summary: She leans forward. Her eyes are on him, unblinking. "Let me get this straight. Hydra took you, and they kept you for a whole day, and they brought you back home and dressed you in your own sleep gear. And they left you a video tape." "And a card," he says.  "Wilson," she says, and he's momentarily glad she's not using his given name, glad that there's no softness in her eyes, no emotion, just a steady calm. "You know that this tape was never meant for you, don't you."





	

Sam wakes up in his bed. It's not an unusual occurrence by any means – what's unusual is that he has no memory of how he got there.

Or what day it is, for that matter. 

Or what he did to cause the stiffness in his muscles. From his shoulders to his thighs and calves, he's an aching mess, and there's a soreness in his ass that usually mean – that usually means – fuck.

Sam sits up with a hiss. He's apparently made it home safe from wherever he went last night, which is something, at least – but there was something else, wasn't there? 

His gaze comes to rest on the nightstand. There's a white card, like a gift card, only with a red symbol on it that – that – 

_The helicarriers. The Triskelion. Mayhem and fire, and Rumlow's face from across the room, sneering at him. A dart when Sam expected a blow, and the world went black. Maria Hill's urgent voice in his ear, and Rumlow drawing closer. Then, nothing._

Did someone find him and bring him home? What happened to the others? What's going on? 

Panic rises in him, sharp and bitter. He gets up from the bed. The pain in his ass makes him wince, makes his heart heartbeat spike with sudden anxiety. Everything appears to be in the right place: he even finds his cell phone in the kitchen, right where he left it before they headed out to catch Sitwell. Sam checks the news app. _SHIELD files leaked_ , the headline says, and another one: _Captain America still in hospital; prognosis unclear._ He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. None of this gives him any clues as to what happened to him after Rumlow shot him, none of it, except … 

Slowly, pulse hammering with the sense of dread, Sam returns to the bed. The card still lies there, untouched. Sam reaches for it, and a black, inconspicuous USB drive falls out. Inside the card, someone's handwriting says: _Thank you for a great time!_

**********

Sam emerges from the bathroom, still shaking. Not knowing what else to do, he calls the emergency number Natasha gave him when she and Steve first came to him. After a long while, a male voice answers. 

"Yeah?"

"Hello," Sam says. A part of him is still in shock and it's like talking through a wad of cotton – everything dampened, not quite real. "This is Sam. Can I – can I talk to Natasha, please?" 

"Sorry," the guy replies lightly. "She's currently really busy. But I'll tell her you called, Sam – _wait_ , Sam, as in, _Sam Wilson_?" His tone has switched from bored politeness to alert vigilance. 

"Yeah," Sam says. "That's me. Maybe you could tell her –"

"Wait," the guy says. "One second."

Sam waits, heard pounding. 

"Sam?" Natasha says in his ear.

"Yeah," he says. "Listen, I know it's probably not a good time –"

"Where _are_ you?" Natasha asks. 

"Um – at home."

A short pause, then – " _How_?"

"Hydra," Sam say, bile rising again. He swallows convulsively. There's nothing left to throw up, but his body wants to anyway.

"Are you injured?"

"No." Phyiscally, he's fine, or at least it's nothing a hospital could fix. "Could you - can I talk to you –?"

"I'm sending someone to get you," she says. "We'll talk when you get here. Pack a bag, personal stuff, things you might need - a change of clothes – don't talk to anyone else on the phone."

It's an order. Something to focus on. He can do that. "All right," he says, weirdly reassured by her calm confidence. "Who are you going to send?" 

"You'll know him when you see him," she says.

**********

"Hi," the guy says and gives Sam a grim smile. "I'm Barton. They call me Hawkeye, but you already know that. Nat sent me. You have everything you need?" 

Sam stares at him. "Where were you two days ago? We could have used your help. Natasha tried to get a hold of you –"

"I know," Barton says with a grimace. "But SHIELD – Hydra, that is – made sure I was busy elsewhere. I came as soon as I could. What the hell happened to you? You look like crap." 

"Long story," Sam says through gritted teeth. 

"I bet," Barton mutters. "All right, let's get going." He turns around and heads back to his car, a non-descript SUV that looks like it belongs to a white suburban soccer mum, lacking the "baby on board" sticker on the back window. 

"Nice car," Sam says, just to say anything. "Where are we going?" 

"Someplace safe," Barton says, and for some reason, his words make Sam relax just a tiny bit.

**********

"Someplace safe" turns out to be the re-modeled Stark tower in Manhattan. Upon entering, Sam's bag is thoroughly scanned for bugs and trackers before he's allowed to take the elevator up to the penthouse where Hill and Natash, along with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, are already waiting for him. 

From them, Sam learns that Steve is still alive in a hospital in D.C., surrounded by a Stark security team, expected to wake up in a couple of days. He's been found in Alexandria, washed ashore and barely alive. Sam, on the other hand, has been missing, assumed dead after the fall of the Triskelion. They hadn't known that Rumlow got out of the collapsing tower alive, much less with a hostage.

"What happened to you?" Tony Stark asks after Hill has finished her explanation. He eyes Sam from head to foot. "I hope you don't mind me saying, you look like you've seen better days."

Sam looks at Natasha. She's kept mostly, watching him. Evaluating. Somehow, her close scrutiny helps him decide. He returns her sharp, knowing gaze as steadily as he can. "Can I talk to you – in private?" he asks. As her eyes narrow, he softly adds, "please," and after a second, she nods. 

"Hey," Stark says. "Didn't we agree that on full disclosure?" He sounds almost hurt. 

"In your dreams," Natasha says.

**********

After Stark reluctantly agrees to turn off the cameras and audio recording, Natasha and Sam retreat to a small work room. With non-transparent walls between Sam and the rest of the world, he sinks onto a chair, grimacing at the pain, a constant reminder he relly doesn't need. 

"All right." Natasha sits down across from him. "Spill."

"This morning, I woke up in my bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, not remembering anything after Rumlow shot me," he says. His voice sounds oddly small in his own ears. "But Hydra left me a present." He pulls the USB stick out of his pocket and holds it out to her. Before she can take it from him, he closes his hand around it. "You have to promise me something first," he says. "You have to promise me that you won't show this to anyone else. You're not going to let anyone else watch this, and you're not going to copy it. I'm giving this to you because – because someone needs to know." 

Natasha raises an eyebrow.

"What's even more important," Sam says, "is that you can't tell Steve."

She leans forward. Her eyes are on him, unblinking. "Let me get this straight. Hydra took you, and they kept you for a whole day, and they brought you back home and dressed you in your own sleep gear. And they left you a video tape." 

"And a card," he says. 

"Wilson," she says, and he's momentarily glad she's not using his given name, glad that there's no softness in her eyes, no emotion, just a steady calm. "You know that this tape was never meant for _you_ , don't you."

Sam stares at her and fights the nausea threatening to make him run for the next rubbish bin. "I know."

"And you know that they still have the recording, and if _you_ don't give that tape to Steve as they intended, then he's going to be wholly unprepared when they confront him with it."

"It's not going to do him any good," Sam says. "Natasha. You have no idea –"

"I _have_ an idea," Natasha says. "And I'm not looking forward to see it confirmed. But if that tape shows what I think it shows, then we're not going to be able to keep this from him."

"So let him know what he needs to know. But don't show him the video. This is not a request, Romanov. You have to promise me. You have to protect him from that. It's –" He takes a deep breath. "Please. Don't tell him how bad it was, don't tell him _who_  –" He catches his himself as Natasha's eyes widen. "Just don't," Sam says with a dry mouth. "Not without my consent."

To his relief, she agrees with a brief nod. 

"Okay." He slowly opens his palm, lets her take the USB drive. His empty fingers close around air.

**********

Three days of rest – or restlessness – and he's allowed to return to D.C. to sit at Steve's bedside and wait for him to wake up. The soreness is mostly gone, a faint reminder in some places, a more acute one in others. He still doesn't remember anything and the doctors have told him he likely never will.

Doesn't mean it's any less present in his mind, doesn't mean he can pretend not to know. He pushes the knowledge away to the best of his abilities, forcing himself to focus on other things, to calm his mind. It's not going to work long-term, but for now, it's the only thing he can do without going mad. Stark has invited him to stay in the tower, but Sam doesn't feel at home there and he can't seem to settle down anyway, so he might as well hover at Steve's bedside, listen to Mavin Gaye and solve a lot of Sudokus that keep his mind occupied. 

When Steve opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Sam, it's easy to smile back at him.

**********

"I need to get out of here," Steve says. "Bucky's still out there. He recognized me, he pulled me out of the river – it was him, I'm sure of that. We need to find him before Hydra does."

There is a pause. Sam doesn't say anything; he can't. It's Natasha who shakes his head, addressing Steve without any attempt to soften the blow. "Hydra has him."

"How do you know that?" 

"There's video footage," Natashas says. "It shows the Winter Soldier, carrying out Hydra's orders."

"What kind of footage? Where did you get it?"

"It was in a file Hydra sent us. They wanted to make sure we knew that they have him. That he's still on their payroll, so to speak."

"I want to see it."

"No," Natasha says. She doesn't falter, not even when Steve looks at her with hurt, accusatory eyes.

"I though we were done with keeping things secret," Steve says.

"Listen," she says, focused on Steve, ignoring Sam, who is standing by the window. He should have stayed away from this discussion, but it would look weird if he left now, so he just tries to pretend he isn't there. "We got this video because they wanted us to see it. They wanted _you_ to see it because they knew it would hurt you."

"You don't need to protect me," Steve says. "I'd rather just know."

"It's not you I'm trying to protect," she says. "The person who gave it to me, I swore to them I wouldn't let you see it."

Steve opens his mouth in protest, then he deflates, runs as hand through his hair and sighs. "Natasha, if Bucky is in this video –"

"Not Bucky," she says. "The Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier, who went after Nick. The Winter Soldier, who stopped our car on that bridge."

"On that helicarrier – he recognized me. I know he did." 

"Maybe. Maybe he did. But the man in that video? He's not the person you knew. You might not want to pull on this thread."

Steve shakes his head. 

Suddenly and inexplicably angry, Sam turns around. "Let him see it," he says to Natasha. He already knows Steve is not going to let it go, that stubborn son of a bitch. "Let him see it, if he thinks he can handle it." When Steve looks at him with surprise, Sam adds: "You want to see it, fine. Don't say we didn't warn you." 

He leaves the room without a backward glance, before Steve gets a chance to reply.

**********

He doesn't have to see it. Once was more than enough. The images are etched into his mind, high resolution. 

_Sam, with his hands bound, strung up for torture – or sex – in a sling. His legs pulled back, spread and tied to allow access to his ass. Blindfolded and motionless, maybe even unconscious – there's no way to tell._

_A guy steps in front of the camera and smiles. Rumlow. He gives the camera a thumbs-up, then opens his fly to pull out his dick. He pulls a bottle of lube from his pocket and coats his hand, jacks himself hard and pushes into Sam's ass. Porn-style, the video shows the penetration from another angle, shows the way Rumlow forces himself inside and starts to move the sling back and forth, pulling Sam onto his dick, then pushing him off. He repeats the same thing over and over again, until the slide gets easier, then starts to fuck Sam in earnest. The camera switches back and keeps running as Rumlow fucks Sam with harsh grunts, as Sam appears to regain consciousness and moans softly, only for a guy in a lab coat to appear and give him a shot of **something**. Rumlow pulls out and jerks himself off. The camera above him catches the way his come lands on Sam's skin in tick, pearly ropes. _

_Rumlow steps back and another man steps into the frame to take his place, this one with a mask covering his face. He fucks Sam with reckless abandon, not caring about the camera. He stills with a grunt after a couple of minutes and pulls out. Another one takes his place. There are four guys in total, then the screen goes black._

_That's the first twenty minutes._

_For the second part, they've taken Sam down. He seems to be awake, though apparently disoriented, and he's shaking his head and trying to get away as two men pry his mouth open and put a ring gag in place. While one man holds him in place, on his knees, the other one fucks his mouth and takes obvious pleasure in making Sam gag and almost suffocate - he pushes in to the hilt and only retreats when the other man's sharp command makes him._

_That's another ten minutes._

_For the third part, Sam is in the sling again. He's awake, not blindfolded, but gagged. As the door opens and the Winter Soldier enters the room, Sam flinches and lifts his head, as far as the sling lets him. He tries to talk, but it's merely noise and the Winter Soldier doesn't react in any way. There's no sign of recognition, no sign of anything but ruthless efficiency as the Winter Soldier coats his metal arm with lube and slowly, methodically, starts to work his fist into Sam's body._

_Through the gag, the noises Sam makes could be mistaken for pleasure, if it weren't for the tears leaking from his eyes, the way he throws his head from one side to another, the way he helplessly twists inside the sling to get away._

_Once the Winter Soldier's hand has disappeared in Sam's body, he slowly works it deeper. Then someone behind the camera seems to give a wordless signal: the Winter Soldier lifts his head to stare right at the camera, then he pulls his hand out again. It's stained pink._

_The last part, the one that Sam wishes he'd never seen, is the one where the Winter Soldier sucks his cock. He's on his knees, hair pulled away from his eyes to reveal the face of Bucky Barnes. The camera films Sam's point of view. There's nothing in the Soldier's face, nothing but dark, fathomless emptiness as his hands close around Sam's hips to hold him in place when Sam, weakly, starts to struggle – as he takes Sam's limp cock in his mouth and starts to suck. The camera catches the way Sam's cock hardens, slowly but surely until the Winter Soldier stops sucking and just bobs his head. It doesn't take longer than a couple of minutes. The Winter Soldier finishes Sam off with his hand, tilts head up to let the spurts hit his face. The camera lovingly focuses on the vacant expression, traces the sticky, glistening trails of come. "Hail Hydra," the Winter Soldier says with a Russian accent._

The video ends. 

Maybe Sam should see it as a small mercy that he doesn't actually remember anything.

It doesn't feel like one, though.

**********

Sam sits on the rooftop terrace and stares into the sunset as Steve silently joins him. They keep sitting next to each other. Sam doesn't know what to say - he doesn't want Steve's pity, or his excuses. The only thing he really wants, he won't get. They've known each other for a couple of weeks. Steve has known Barnes his whole life.

"Are you going after them?" Sam finally says. It's not like there was any doubt about it, but it's as good a conversation starter as any.

"Yeah," Steve says. 

His voice sounds funny, almost – almost as if – Sam turns his head to look at him and inhales, shocked. Steve looks like he's seen hell. His eyes are red and puffy, his hair is a mess. 

"Count me in," Sam says. As Steve hesitates, he asks, "What?" 

"Sam, I've seen the video – I know what he's done to you. I know that there's no excuse –"

"But you're still going to try and save him, won't you," Sam says. A strange, heavy feeling is settling in his stomach.

"I am sorry," Steve says. "But I have no choice."

"So that's it?" Sams asks. "No matter what he's done, you're never going to believe he's one of the bad guys? No matter how many people he kills – how many people he _rapes_  –"

Steve winces. Sam refuses to feel guilty. He identifies the strange, new feeling as rage, slowly starting to boil inside of him. "He _raped_ me. I don't care whether they ordered him –"

"Sam ..." 

"He raped me, and you're going after him to 'save' him because apparently, saving him is more important than saving other people."

Steve flinches, visibly struggles for control. His hands clench into fists. In a low voice, he says: "Hydra raped him too, you know."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know him."

"You _think_ you know him," Sam corrects him coolly. "Just like you thought you knew _Rumlow_." It's a low blow, but he doesn't care. "Or do you think Hydra forced _him_ to stick his dick into my ass too?"

"Bucky was their prisoner for seventy years –"

"No," Sam says. "I am not going to listen to this. I'm not doing that to myself. You know what, Steve? My offer is officially retracted. You go after him, save him, or what's left of him, fine, but don't count on my help. I'm out. I'll go back to D.C. and try to put my life back together. Not that you'll be any help."

"Sam –"

Sam jumps up from the ground. He leaves without another word, shaking his head in violent denial.

**********

"Can I come in?" Natasha says. She holds up a bottle of vodka; a peace offering.

"If you want to convince me that Steve is right –"

"No." As he doesn't say anything, she asks, "May I?" and enters the room while Sam tiredly steps aside. He closes the door behind her. As she walks into his kitchen and pulls two glasses from the shelf. 

"Then why are you here?" he asks. 

Over her shoulder, she looks back to him. "You have a right to be angry. Though you don't need me to tell you that. Or maybe you do. So I thought I'd say it, just in case." 

They down a first round, then a second. Natasha pours a third before the sets the bottle aside. She doesn't drink - instead she puts her forearms on the table, lowering her head, but looking straight at him. "The thing is, Steve is going to go after them – or rather, after Barnes – and he's recruited the Avengers tp help him. I have no idea what's going to happen when we find him. _If_ we find him. By the way, did you know that the Winter Soldier killed Tony's parents? It's in his file." 

Sam winces.

"Anyway," she says. "I'm not saying that Steve deserves your loyalty, or that he's in the right. I don't think he is. And I don't know whether Barnes is salvageable – I personally doubt it – but what I _do_ know is that I don't want him to remain a weapon at Hydra's disposal. He's the most dangerous assassin in the world – me included. He is what Steve could have been if Erskin had chosen someone like me, or Nick. So here's what I'm going to do, I'm going to find him and stop him – one way or another. If Steve finds a way to help him, make sure he no longer answer's to Hydra – fine. But I want you to know that if things get tough, I'm not going to let him escape." 

"Even if it means turning against Steve?" 

"Even then," Natasha says.

"Does he know that?"

She shrugs. "Possibly. But I'm not here to discuss what I'm going to do, or even what Steve is going to do. This is about you. It's your choice that matters. And if you want to join the Avengers and help us get even with Hydra, you're more than welcome."

"You expect me to help you – why, exactly? For revenge?"

"Sure," she says. "And for chance to stop them."

Sam slumps in his chair. He closes his eyes for a brief second, long enough to think about his life, which doesn't seem to fit him anymore, no matter how hard he tries, about his empty flat that feels tainted and unsafe, of the way he's can't seem to fall asleep anymore, too scared of losing himself, even for a short while. "All right," he says softly. He reaches for the glass and knocks back the third shot, waiting for her to do the same. "Let's go and cut off some more heads. I mean, how many more can there be?"

**********

Almost two years later, after Sokovia, they find the Winter Soldier in a Hydra base in Finland. They bring him back to New York to defrost him and days pass while Steve and Tony try to find a way to break through Hydra's conditioning. Sam, haunted by the past, avoids the part of the tower where Barnes is imprisoned like the plague, until Natasha tells him that Barnes has asked to see him. 

Reluctantly, Sam agrees, and enters Barnes' room to find him in a quiet conversation with Steve. 

As Sam walks in, Barnes lifts his head and looks straight at him. "I remember you," he says. His voice is softer than before. 

"Do you," Sam says flatly. Barnes' eyes are nothing like the Winter Soldier's. They are bright and vibrant, not expressionless at all. 

"Yeah," Barnes says. "I'd like to say I'm sorry, but I wouldn't even know where to start –"

It's been two years. Sam's memories have never returned. He's been seeing a therapist. He's also avoided talking to Steve about Barnes until very recently. He still isn't sure if he can believe that Barnes didn't have a choice in all of this. A part of him wants to. It goes without saying that another part doesn't.

"I remember everything," Barnes says. "Not only you. Everything they made me do. Everyone they made me kill –" He closes his eyes briefly. "Everyone they made me torture, and rape." He looks at Sam, then at Steve. He averts his gaze, as if he can't bear to look at Steve for longer than a second, and focuses on Sam again. "So if you want to do what _he_ can't, I won't stop you."

"Why?" Sam asks before Steve can open his mouth in protest. "Because you can't live with yourself?"

"Something like that," Barnes says. "And so that no one can make me do what _they_ did ever again."

Sam doesn't know what to say. Searching for words, he holds Barnes' gaze. It's difficult to imagine this guy being the same who attacked them on the bridge in Washington, two years ago.

"It probably doesn't mean anything to you," Barnes says quietly. "God knows it doesn't change what happened. Still – I'm sorry."

Sam takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he says at last, though his voice isn't quite as steady as he'd like it to be. "Yeah. Me too."


End file.
